lutrian dreams - Outdoor Adventures

Adventures in Tanana Flats

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 18:57:38 +0200

Another hiatus, more temporary this time, from my blog, while my content switched over to a new domain name. Thanks to everyone who made that happen.

It's a hot and sunny day in Fairbanks, and I've hardly been outside to enjoy the weather; exhausted from spending a week out in the weather until yesterday evening. Exhausted but content. Field work is hard physically but mentally rejuvenating.

This trip took me across the Tanana River to identify wetlands on the south side, where I had not been before. The area is not accessible via road; we commuted out in the morning and back in the evenings in an R-44 helicopter, with a few hops during the day. In between hops, there was plenty of bush-whacking through black spruce scrub forests and slogging through boggy wetlands, swatting away mosquitoes and flies, and searching for the next LZ (landing zone). A few tight LZs required my field partner and I to "step" out of the helicopter from eight feet in the air and load from a hover.

Unlike the last time I went out into the field, all too long ago last September!, the vegetation was nearing its prime. Flowers were blooming and many of the sedges had spikes. It was a week-long treasure hunt to see what new species we would identify at each site. Amongst our findings were fragile fern, shy maiden, green-flowered wintergreen, rattlesnake orchid, and the rare moonwort and Calypso orchid. Miles back from the mighty Tanana, we also found thick sediment deposits in some of our sites, deposited during the major flood of July 2008. The ground was still sopping wet, even in deciduous tree uplands; the silty sediment is slow to drain, and perhaps the ground froze last fall before the flat terrain could dry out. Heavier-than-usual winter snows piled on top of the saturated but frozen ground, melting suddenly in May's hot weather. These sites, flooded one year ago, have yet to dry out. Water marks can be found three feet high on the trunks of large trees, vegetative debris caught in the forks of high branches.

Wildlife were out in full force, although we saw mostly signs of animals passing rather than animals themselves. Moose scat, hare scat, grouse droppings, bear scat and tracks, wolf scat. An upset mama grouse feigning injury, trying to distract us from her brood. Gray jays and juncos, a northern harrier, bald eagles, a common loon, a myriad of diving ducks, red-tailed hawks, ravens. Moose- cows with calves and bulls growing antlers- seen from the air. And a black bear. Not from the air.

My field partner, Jeff, and I left our first site of the morning, in an open meadow, and entered a spruce forest. Mid conversation, I heard a twig snap. A very small twig; and, thinking it was a squirrel, I casually looked up and to my right. There, fifteen feet from me with no vegetation in between us, stood a black bear. A small (probably 250 to 300-lb), dark bear with a tawny face. The bear had its head low and was staring me down. "Bear," I said loudly, warning my partner. "Seriously?" he asked, as I began to back up steadily, hands in the air, saying, "Hey, bear. Hey, bear," over and over. Jeff, realising I was serious, began to scan far into the forest for the bear, following me backward with his hands in the air, joining me in my mantra. "Hey, bear. Hey, bear." We stayed side by side as we backed up, trying to appear larger than we were. The bear charged at us several times, leaping forward at us. Silently. No teeth clacking, no jaw popping, no grunts or growls or roars. No rearing up on its hind legs to intimidate us. Jeff and I both realised this bear meant business- it wanted us gone. And we wanted to be gone just as badly. As we backed up, Jeff got caught up more than once on thickets of willow in the understory, and I had visions of this bear leaping onto him as he fell backward. I called out more than once, "Jeff! This way! You have willow behind you!"

We were both certain that an attack was imminent, so we stuck close together to better our chances of fighting back. I had our soil shovel in my hand and was sure I would have to use it. We had left our bear spray back at our lodge because the safety clips had fallen off, and we didn't want to endanger ourselves and our pilot with unsecured bear spray in the helicopter. This was our first day without the spray, and we both realised the implications of having left it behind. One less line of defense. We don't carry fire arms in the field because of corporate policy.

We paused behind a thick growth of willow after about three minutes of the pursuit, not having seen the bear in several seconds. The bear had been backing up to charge repeatedly, so we were not sure that the pursuit was over. After a short period of time, we realised it was not, seeing the light brown of the bear's face coming forward through the trees. We continued to put distance between ourselves and the bear, passing our first LZ around the edge to avoid the opening, finally arriving at the edge of thick, stunted spruce. Positioned behind thick trees but with good line of sight, we had found a safe place to stand our ground while we called our pilot. It had been a full five minutes of pursuit by the bear.

I had been radioing our pilot repeatedly, but our air band radios don't work without line of sight. Fortunately, our cell phones were receiving intermittent signals; we were able to send the pilot a text message: "Need pick up now." Followed by a second message, "Aggressive bear, need pick up same LZ." Within twenty minutes, our pilot called out on the radio; and we were soon in the air, moving to a new site miles from the bear.

Neither Jeff nor I had ever experienced a bear encounter like this one. Most bears will ignore people or run away; but this bear persistently followed us, essentially stalking us. Black bears can be predatory; but Jeff and I think that this was not likely the case here. This was a young bear, probably just kicked out by mama, confused and scared and defending its ground after having found some not occupied by other, higher-ranking bears. Maybe the bear was on a kill. Perhaps that was why it didn't see, hear, or smell us before we were almost on top of it.

It ended well for us and for the bear. As the trip continued, I ate my first blueberry of the season, tart but delicious; enjoyed a lunch-time delivery of curly fries by helicopter while sitting in a sea of tussocks; took a swim in Blair Lake and enjoyed its relatively warm water and sandy bottom, serenaded by a loon; and saw my first lynx, from a low hover in the helicopter.

Strolling on a Sunday Afternoon

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Sun, 30 Dec 2007 23:15:57 +0100

Ken and I and our friends, Kristin and Ken, made plans to go snowshoeing at Granite Tors this weekend, after which we would treat ourselves to a soak in Chena Hot Springs.

We haven't had enough snow to justify strapping on snowshoes in Fairbanks this winter; but we threw them in the car and headed out late morning, to catch a couple hours of daylight. When a couple came off the Tors trail in just winter boots, we agreed that the snowshoes were overkill. So our snowshoeing trip turned into a Sunday afternoon walk, about four miles roundtrip. We had lots of fun, despite the cold temperature (I think it was only 10 below, but the wind was blowing. It felt colder.). I laughed that only Alaskans are crazy enough to find this enjoyable weather for a Sunday stroll!

I love our frozen eyelashes and the frost covering our clothing. The low, blue light in these pictures is about as bright as it gets in Fairbanks at this time of year. Those skinny, misshapen trees do qualify as a forest here in Fairbanks; and this one is probably a fairly old forest because those trees are decently sized.

We took the temperature from well below 0 Fahrenheit to over 108 Fahrenheit very quickly, with an hour-long soak in Chena Hot Springs. The stars were out as we soaked, when we could see them through the thick, swirling mist coming off the water in the rock pool. A great Sunday in Interior Alaska!

Home Again

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Sat, 15 Dec 2007 22:30:00 +0100

A sun- and snow-filled trip. Wonderful.

Off to Iliamna

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 13:07:40 +0100

I'm heading out into the field until December 15th. If you're a Fairbanks person, please call Ken and get him out of the house once in a while (and more importantly, out of the office). I'll see you when I get back. Wish for some sunshine and some days without wind!

In the field

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Sat, 09 Jun 2007 18:27:57 +0200

I'll be in the northern foothills of the Alaska Range this month, performing vegetation sampling and a wetland delineation. Stories to come either on a future town day (no time today!), or at the end of the trip...

Chilkoot Trail, Day Three (aka Summit Day), early morning

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Thu, 17 Aug 2006 22:43:01 +0200

It's time to pick back up where I left off, before hiking the Chilkoot becomes nothing more than a nostalgic smile.

It's amazing how I can only half sleep while on the trail and still feel more rested than I ever will after an undisturbed night on a queen size mattress. Rocky called out to us to wake up around 4:15 am, but I had already been expecting this for hours. We packed our things in the dim light of dawn, not worrying about disturbing sleeping neighbors. The boys had somehow slipped out of camp quite silently, not even setting off our internal bear alarms. We wondered if they had even bothered to go to bed, as we had heard a lot of noise around midnight. We hypothesized that they might have packed up and slept in the cabin also.

The mosquitos weren't too bad as we ate our breakfasts and shoved things into backpacks at the last minute. Rocky tried to get me to add chocolate chips to my breakfast. He'd brought an entire Nestle's bag, and he realised this was the last chance to get some weight off before the Pass. After refusals all around, he decided to leave the ziplock bag in the bear bin, perhaps as a longed-for treat for future summer hikers low on food. Yvette followed his lead and dropped some power bars into the bin, with a note that offered them up to anyone not worried about minimizing their own weight load.

The mosquitos began to move around just as we were getting ready to hit the trail, and Ken decided to power hike out of the riparian area to save himself. I stayed back, somewhere in between him and Rocky and Yvette. I sang as I walked and clapped my hands: this was thick-brushed bear country. The ranger had told us that a bear family was hanging around his hut up the trail, and I expected to meet one or two on an early morning search for food at any moment. Despite the ominous feeling, I stopped to appreciate the beautiful surroundings and the mountains on each side of the trail. This section of the trail is a long avalanche shoot, and the brushy growth is the result of a 1996 avalanche taking out much of the older forest we had previously seen on the trail. This marked a sudden vegetation change from the other side of the Sheep Camp island.

So imagine my surprise when I saw Ken, hiking at me from behind. He was red faced and out of breath, and we stopped at the old Sheep Camp for a water break. Rocky and Yvette caught up to us, and Ken found it necessary to answer the quizzical expressions on all of our faces. Ken had hiked out with the intent of getting away from the mosquitos, putting one foot in front of the other rapidly and keeping his head down. He hadn't noticed for at least a half mile that he was hiking back the way we came in. Now before that sounds like a ridiculous mistake for an experienced hiker, remember that the sun doesn't truly set in the west and rise in the east in Alaska. With mountains on every side of the trail, it took Ken a while to look up and notice that something was wrong. But go ahead and laugh. We did.

Ken and I hiked pretty much side by side after his detour. We had 4.2 miles (6.8 kms) to go to reach the base of the Golden Staircase, otherwise known as the Scales; and we had to get there as quickly as possible, before the sun rotted the snow in the Pass. Rocky had advised that Long Hill was the next section of the hike that we had to look forward to (although those weren't his words), and I found myself constantly wondering when it would start.

We were anticipating a brutal, slow and long ascent. I had plenty of water, but Ken had already used up a lot of his after his vigorous morning wakeup. We stopped so he could fill up (as much as he ever does... Ken doesn't like to carry water weight, which is why it is good he is a man and also why he isn't convinced that hiking the PCT is a good idea) at a stream near the boundary between the subalpine and alpine vegetation. I love alpine tundra, for both its vegetation and interesting geologic formations. I don't even mind scrambling over difficult terrain, like this giant field of chunky, sharp-angled boulders. I felt a bit like a mountain goat, as I hauled myself, my pack, and my trekking poles up and over rocks taller than me. I wasn't at all surprised when I saw a sheep on the distant hillside, but it was still impressive to watch it walk down cliffs at a nearly ninety degree angle.

It dawned on us, as we scrambled past the boulders and begin to reach patches of snow, that we had been hiking the notorious Long Hill for a Long Time. It didn't really seem to deserve this reputation, even at 5:30 in the morning with a looming deadline. Soon all we could see ahead was snow. When I post-holed through a soft patch, Ken and I decided to pull out our gaiters and wait for Rocky and Yvette to catch up.

We had read that the Taiya River flowed down from the Pass and through the chute where we stood, and we had to cross over it in order to continue with our hike. We could hear water flowing but couldn't see it under the snow. Crossing over a deep, fast-flowing glacial river covered in rapidly melting, unstable snow is an unnerving thought; but it was just a hint of what we would experience in the next several hours.

Ken and I scoped out the area; and once we regrouped, we headed up slope, crossed the River safely, and soon arrived at the Scales.

I dropped my pack and began to prepare a mid-morning snack. It was 8:30 in the morning

Chilkoot Trail, Day Two, Afternoon

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Thu, 20 Jul 2006 18:13:21 +0200

Upon reaching Pleasant Camp, those of us who would be sore on the trip were feeling all of the places that would ache for the next four days. We stretched out over the sun-warmed rocks at the Taiya's edge to nap or contemplate the sounds of a powerful river, each as they pleased. Except for the mosquitos, Pleasant Camp was... well, pleasant. The morning had passed at a leisurely pace, but the naps and the contemplation had readied us all to don our packs and get back on the trail. We knew we would have a very early morning ahead: snow conditions warranted leaving camp before 5:00 am, in order to traverse the avalanche zone safely. I guess "safely" is relative...

The trail from Pleasant Camp to Sheep Camp is an easy hike. The hike is only 1.3 miles (2 kms), and this section of the trail has the least elevation change. Ken and I enjoyed chatting together as we walked along. I paid particular attention to the vegetation, once more, knowing that this would be the last of the coastal temperate rainforest on this trip.

As we neared Sheep Camp, we saw that the trail had been re-routed. It was new construction, not yet complete; and we had to be careful not to trip over roots. The unfinished surface of the trail was mulch a few inches deep, and it felt a lot like walking in sand or on tundra. Hiking on surfaces like this gets old fast; and I was happy to see a newly constructed zigzag bridge over the Taiya, signalling our arrival at the island that is Sheep Camp. However as this was day two of our hike, I really had my hiking legs under me. Part of me wanted to knock this section out as quickly as possible and head to the pass, but I knew that this wasn't logistically practical. Summit Day is supposed to be special anyway, and I knew I didn't want to hurry through the Golden Staircase.

Sheep Camp was soggy. We learned from Ranger Jeremy, who would come down from the Ranger station to brief us on the trail ahead, that the trail was rerouted because the old trail was underwater. Apparently the Taiya migrates a great deal in this particular stretch: Sheep Camp had already been moved once to its present location, and the Park Service is getting ready to move it again. There were platforms to pitch tents on (convenient if you have a free-standing tent but not so great for us); and because the water table is high, there were composting toilets raised up on platforms. These were the nicest outhouses of the trip!

Sheep Camp is a large, sprawling camp; but the tent sites are very close together. For the first time on the trip, I realised just how crowded the trail could potentially be during the Chilkoot Summer months. We were early in the season still. I was thankful for that, even if being early did represent an extra five pounds that I would carry for the duration of the trip (snowshoes!).

I said it once, but it bears repeating: Sheep Camp was soggy. I quickly realised that Ken would be useless for camp chores, beyong pitching the tent. Mosquitos were everywhere, and they honed in on him. As soon as the tent was staked and guyed, Ken dove in, dragging his sleeping bag behind him. From this point forward, I would feed anything he needed underneath the screen door, while he madly swatted the viscious mosquitos that snuck in with the gear. Yvette filtered water, washed up, and followed Ken's example. I hung clothes to dry, washed up, filtered water in the icy cold river, and attempted to read my book at a picnic table on a gravel bar. The attempt was unsuccessful: the mosquitos were ridiculous. Rocky had sought refuge in the wall tent shelter with a couple of the boys. Although the two groups were still giving each other plenty of space, and I felt like it would be good to break the ice a bit, I couldn't bear the thought of sitting in a dark shelter.

I decided to cook an early dinner so that I could head to bed with my book. I was soon joined by Rocky, Yvette, and Ken. Dinner talk centered around mosquitos and our upcoming Summit Day. Soon Ranger Jeremy arrived to give a talk about trail and weather conditions. He confirmed our suspicions that the earlier we hit the trail, the better. Although he had history and wildlife presentations, Ranger Jeremy was astute enough to recognize that we had an early morning (and thus an early bed time). Ken and I had decided we should leave camp by 4:00 am to avoid soft snow. Rocky and Yvette were pushing for 5:30. We compromised with a 5:00 am departure.

We cleaned up from dinner; stashed the smelly food bags and toiletries in the bear boxes; and Yvette, Ken, and I headed to the tents, while Rocky journaled. You can see just how bad the mosquitos were. Yvette took this photograph of Rocky through the mesh, rather than risking several mosquito bites and the annoyance of extra mosquitos in her tent. Ken amused himself by exhaling toward the tent wall and watching the mosquitos frantically try to get to the warm blooded mammal, poking their proboscides through the silnylon.

I read my book until I could convince myself to fall asleep, around 7:30 or 8:00. Ken laughed that I had brought Edward Abbey's Black Sun on a backpacking trip. But I thought, what could be better than reading about love, the forest, and love under the sun in the forest while in the forest? Of course, there was a little of Edward Abbey thrown in for good measure (sex, a mysterious disappearance, death, and grief). As this was one of Abbey's favorites, I felt that it wouldn't be appropriate to read it while sitting on a cozy couch. It felt much more suited for the dirt, sweat, and damp of the Chilkoot.

Chilkoot Trail, Day Two, Morning

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Wed, 19 Jul 2006 21:02:15 +0200

We woke up with the sunshine after our first night on the trail and lazed in the tent. It was wonderful to listen to the sounds of the water fall and feel the cool air, while snuggling in our down sleeping bags. We were in no hurry to get started, as this would be a short day of only 4.3 miles (6.9 kms).

Everyone was in good spirits, as we reconvened at our picnic table
in the sunshine. I happily ate my oatmeal, rinsed my mug and spork in the fast-flowing Taiya, and made some hot black tea. That's the thing about light hiking: it requires a lot more work and patience. Rocky and Yvette could make their food and drink their tea or coffee at the same time! Still I'll put up with oatmeal floaties in my drink any day to save the neck, back, and knee strain.

I was happy to discover that Ken and I are fairly compatible hiking partners. When we got to Canyon City the previous evening, we set up camp before relaxing and eating. On this first morning, we were like-minded in our desire to take down camp before heading off for fun. On the agenda: a visit to the old Canyon City town site, .3 miles (.4 kms) from camp. But first, the sleeping bags must be stuffed into stuff sacks, the sleeping pads deflated and rolled up, the clothes taken off of the clothes line and stuffed into stuff sacks, the water filtered from the cascading mountain stream... Rocky and Yvette headed off down the trail. I finished my errands shortly thereafter and skipped away in my Crocs and a silkweight tee... the day was already getting hot. Ken was waylaid: the boys had discovered... dunh dunh dunh... the elusive older COOL COMPUTER GEEK! Rarely seen in such wilderness settings, cool older computer geek must be apprehended at first available opportunity, even if he is headed down the trail. I laughed and told Ken I'd see him at the ruins.

Canyon City may be the first place on the trail that makes one realise just how crazy these Stampeders really were. After seeing the old restaurant stove, the boiler that powered the aerial tramway, and various pieces of pottery and ironworks (in this day and age, this would all be trash, and discarding it would be frowned upon), I became a believer in "gold fever".

I had noticed some old, overgrown trails just before the restaurant stove. Yvette was sure they were animal trails, but I convinced her to head back with me for a peak. It turned out that they led to old building foundations and piles of cool junk. We were glad we checked it out.

By the time we were done exploring the historic garbage (which was definitely interesting garbage), the guys had already crossed the suspension bridge and headed back down the main trail to camp. That didn't stop Yvette and I from testing the spring on the bridge. I felt like a naughty child, jumping on a new mattress.

Back in camp, Ken and I packed our food bags into our backpacks and lazed in the sunshine as Rocky and Yvette broke camp. Soon we headed down the trail toward our lunch spot at Pleasant Camp, 2.7 miles (4.4 kms) away. We stepped off the trail to snap a quick shot of the bridge- and have some more bouncing fun- before any serious hiking could take place. Beyond the suspension bridge, the trail diverged from the Taiya River for the first time. The Taiya disappeared into a steep canyon, and we began climbing. We saw relics of the old telegraph and tram lines, strung through the trees all along our path. The day was quickly as hot as the first, and the glaciers again beckoned in the distance. I enjoyed watching the vegetation change from that of the coastal rainforest to something in between rainforest and alpine. The earthy, bitter smell of giant devil's club followed much of our hike. Fiddlehead ferns, spruce tips, wood columbine, and other edibles played hide and seek in the multi-dimensional green of the forest. Fast flowing mountain streams, tumbling toward the Taiya far below, provided us with icy cold drinking water. Innovative gold miners or Tlingit packers from long ago encourage our forward progress, as a sapling they had long ago bent into a directional marker still stands as a sentry along the trail.

In no time, we descended to the cobbled banks of the Taiya, where we would lunch, wash, and nap in the sunshine.

Alaskan whispers

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Wed, 19 Jul 2006 12:53:31 +0200

Being that we're more than halfway through summer, we're packing in the field work as much as possible. Unfortunately I have some projects that require quite a bit of office time, and this year's field work hasn't been that exciting. But I'll take what I can get and enjoy the subtleties of this wild place. (If you're riding ATVs in a large group, subtleties are about all you get.)

That said, I have some more lovely pictures to share:

Mystery
Grizzly and wolf tracks	Dwarf fireweed

These were taken on a trip near Denali National Park and Preserve. We stopped to scout our way through a muddy mess, and I happened to glance down at my tire at the first set of tracks. No one I was with could be sure of their origin: too small for a wolf, too big for a fox, not the right area for a coyote because of the presence of wolves. I placed my finger next to the tracks for scale to ID back at the office. It turns out they could be wolverine tracks. This is the only set I've seen that weren't in snow, and these are very fresh. The claw marks are sharply defined, and this mud fills in fast. I'm guessing, based on the water in the prints, that the tracks are 15-30 minutes old. Based on the size, it was probably a female. No way we would have seen this snarly, elusive, powerful weasel with all of the noise we were making. But very exciting all the same!

Of note, the mystery tracks are quite the source of debate down in Healy. I've heard everything from lynx to domestic dog. I still think wolverine is a possibility, as they leave a variety of prints. Maybe we'll never know.

The second picture was taken on the eastern bank of the Savage River. The bear track is that of a grizzly, probably a yearling or two-year-old according to size. Next to it is a wolf track. These scavengers were probably searching the shore for washed up carcasses. We placed a stem of fireweed in the picture for scale.

Finally, dwarf fireweed growing right in the Savage River. This is a species found in areas of disturbance, but not disturbance of this magnitude! The water levels were obviously quite high- just below record levels in the area. The mighty Savage prevented us from heading west to the Teklanika on this trip. The water levels seem to be changing fast.

Alaska will talk to you in subtle ways if you listen.

Chilkoot Map

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Tue, 04 Jul 2006 23:20:14 +0200

So you can follow the journey...

There is a link to the map here. I'm not reposting it, as the size doesn't come out large enough. They want that $2.00...!

Chilkoot Trail, Day One, Lunch and Later

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Mon, 03 Jul 2006 19:30:15 +0200

Our lunch time company on the first day included a large, ancient tree, the likes of which I hadn't seen since my family lived in Washington. The tree was at a lunch spot/camp site called Finnegan's Point, 4.8 miles (7.7 km) from the trailhead. It had probably been witness to the Stampeders of Goldrush days and to the Tlingit traders before them. I couldn't resist nestling in its roots for a photo op. We just don't have trees like this in Fairbanks.

Other lunchtime company included five teenage boys; and we quickly realised that, for better or worse, this was likely the group of five with which we would share our camp spots and much of the trail. Camp sites are limited on the trail; and we had heard that not only did we have the same summit day as one other group, but they were starting their hike on the same day as ours. There was the usual early trail awkwardness. We knew it would soon be broken, and we could only hope these boys weren't typical teenagers. Yvette was concerned they might be a church group and felt immediate guilt that they would share the trail with us. She and Ken have both been known to exhibit symptoms of Turrett's Syndrome during especially trying moments... on and off trail. For now, greetings and conversation between the two groups were kept to a minimum, while we sized each other up.

Throughout the afternoon, we continued to experience torturous heat.
I was relatively comfortable in my scant, all-synthetic, quickdry clothing. At least compared to Rocky: he was drenched in cotton, causing Yvette to shriek each time he tried to hug her. I think this romance killing aspect is just one more reason not to wear cotton on the trail (in case its hypothermia inducing properties weren't reason enough).

I caught glimpses of snow capped peaks in the distance and wished for the cooler air of higher altitudes. The mountain streams did provide some relief through the constant availability of cold drinking water; and we took every opportunity to dip our bandanas in the glacial water, cooling off our sweaty heads.

Distant Glacier	Glacially Cold Stream
PA on the Chilkoot	Natural Staircase

I was really tempted to pull over more than once to stick my hot, likely swollen, and definitely aching feet in these babbling brooks. In spite of my stiff-soled mountaineering boots, the rocky sections of the trail were taking a toll. After a rather lengthy section of boulder-sized cobblestone, I called out to Ken:

I didn't move all the way to Alaska so that I could hike in Pennsylvania!

Ken laughed and immediately dubbed this quote of the day. So even though the hike from Finnegan's to our camp site- Canyon City- was only 2.6 miles (4.4 km), we were happy when we turned the corner and saw the shelter beckoning.

I'm stressing how hot it was on this early part of the trail for a reason. Yvette and I were so hot that we had decided we would do whatever was necessary to cool off and get rid of Day One Stink (knowing that there were four more days of Stink to come). So while Ken and Rocky set up the tents, we took our pack towels and washrags down to some overflow of the Taiya River. Yvette and I being... well, Yvette and I... we stripped down and began washing our steamy selves in thirty four degree (1 C) water. I guess Yvette had forgotten her concern for the potentially Christian boys hiking the trail behind us. Suddenly she gasped (and not from the water temperature), "Boys! Boysboysboys!" We covered as much as one can cover with a pack towel and laughed that this incident had occurred before we'd been properly introduced.

The boys politely walked on as though they had seen nothing. It was almost convincing... but not quite. The overflow that Yvette and I had planted ourselves in was directly in front of the trail into camp. But what could we do? On the trail, there were bound to be many more naked moments. So we finished washing, dried off, and headed off to have a good laugh with Ken and Rocky over dinner. A few hours later, with all food and smelly hygiene products safely stowed in a bear bin, we settled in to read and sleep. The sound of a waterfall drowned out all human created noise, and I slept soundly. Day One on the trail had come to an end.

Chilkoot Trail, Day One, Morning

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Mon, 26 Jun 2006 12:50:33 +0200

We woke up fairly early, to shower one last time and eat one last meal that didn't start out dehydrated. Yvette and I braided our hair, in the hopes of keeping somewhat clean. The day was hot, so we were immediately thankful for our convertible pants and tanktops. Good thing we'd compared packing lists and made multiple trips to outfitters, or Yvette would have spent the week soaked in sweat. Or more than she needed to be anyway... there was really no escaping the sweat.

We breakfasted at a greasy spoon diner, so I requested a stop at the health food store, You Say Tomato. I marveled that Skagway has a health food store, when their winter population is approximately 800 and the summer seasonal population is less than three thousand; but we don't have one in Fairbanks. I bought liquid ginger, for when I fly in little bitty planes that like to spin upside down, and Knudsen's vegetable juice. I knew it would be a few days before I had anything nearly so fresh. Other than the one orange I would carry in my pack (much to Ken's ultra-light dismay) and eat for lunch because it weighed too much (which shows that there is an ultra-lighter in me, trying to get out).

Rocky drove us to the trailhead in Dyea, where we took the requisite pre-hike pictures with the National Park sign. While we waited for Rocky to park the truck a half mile down the road and walk back, we eavesdropped on the two tour groups that had just hobbled off of buses. They would be walking in with us for almost two miles. We felt like we were on exhibit; and Yvette thought that the tour groups would do well to pay people to hike those first few miles with backpacks each day, pretending to be thru-hikers. People who are paid have time to stop and chat and answer silly questions, which we knew were bound to come.

Examples of silly tourist questions, from our own experience:

1. Why don't they clean the glaciers?
2. How often do you visit the United States? (A: Almost every day.)
3. What kind of currency do you take? (A: Alaskan. The bank is just down the street.)
4. When do they turn the Northern Lights on?

You could have a contest around here in the summer, to see who gets asked the stupidest question. The problem is, we always hear the same questions time and again. (Yes, more than one person has thought that Alaska was its own country; and more often than not, the people who make this mistake are our fellow Americans.)

Upon Rocky's arrival, we started out on the trail and immediately encountered a very steep incline. Approximately a half mile up the trail, we signed the hiker registry (Token, Weggers, Skookum, and Rocky); and I was asked my stupid tourist question for the trip:

Are you guys going to spend the night out there?

There are two possible fun answers:
A1: Nope, I just think it's great fun to haul a thirty-five pound+ pack around on steep slopes.
A2: Yep, but hauling this backpack will all be worth it when we get to the luxury lodge at the top. Didn't they tell you about that? It's five star. You should really complain to your tour company.

Despite being hot, thirsty, and stopped by this group of gawking tourists (some of whom were quite young, so age is not an excuse), I was nice. And I hiked as fast as I could to get past them and the next group. They were moving slow, and the slope was very steep; so I was soon on the quiet trail, listening to the sound of only our foot steps and the Taiya River running nearby. The trail quickly flattened and widened out, and we began to catch our first glimpses of the snowy mountains ahead. I crossed my fingers that the heat would subside as we hiked toward the mountains. This was, after all, the coastal rainforest part of the trail... Skagway and vicinity aren't supposed to be nearly eighty degrees at any time of year! I was happy to know that there would be plenty of fresh water running near the trail on the United States side, and I was even happier to see that we would have sources outside of the silty, glacially fed Taiya. The trail, at least thus far, was surprisingly wet. It was great to have various crossings pre-constructed for us. Our boots would have quickly been soggy without them.

First ZigZag Bridge	What Is It
Beds in Cabin	Angry Ptarmigan

Highlights of the morning included an old, privately-owned cabin; our first artifacts strewn alongside the trail; one very angry ptarmigan hen (I think she had a nest nearby, and she chased us for a good ways along the trail); giant trees (a nice change of pace from the pencil thin spruce and deciduous trees in the Interior); and beautiful wildflowers.

Stay tuned...

My Brazilian Adventure

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Thu, 22 Jun 2006 21:59:44 +0200

So I didn't really have an adventure in Brazil. Despite how things look, I didn't spend a lazy week sunning myself on white sands, next to sparkling blue waters... The nice golden glow and streaks of blonde in my hair are snow glare induced. Ken and I and two neighbors (i.e. Token, Weggers, Skookum, and Rocky) just returned from our Chilkoot Adventure...

We left last Saturday for the drive to Whitehorse, attempting to sleep despite the frost heaves (silly us! how can you sleep when one leg and both arms must be used to brace yourself in your seat, lest you slump to the floor despite wearing your seat belt or bash your head against the window...), and were just in time to find hardly any restaurants open. Not that it was late... I think it was just after 7 pm on a Saturday night. While I longed to dine in the sushi restaurant downtown, or the little Indian restaurant tucked out of the way and on the periphery, Boston Pizza was one of the few places open. So Saturday night at Boston Pizza it was. It's a bitter pill to swallow when you leave Fairbanks only to eat at one of the few restaurants we have in Fairbanks!

Sunday morning somewhat made up for Saturday. We dashed around town to find a good cup of coffee, Tim Horton's donuts to satisfy Rocky's craving, 222s for Ken (who is notorious for breaking bones and not going to the doctor for a variety of reasons, so Canada's OTC policy- and health care system in general- works out well), and the sale at Coast Mountain Sports for those last minute must-haves and really good deals. (Unfortunately, with the exchange rate at nearly 1:1, those really good deals that I remember from a few years ago were a lot harder to find!) And of course, we couldn't leave town without stopping at the Yukon Brewing Company. It's Rocky's favorite, and Yvette and I were curious about a couple of the specialty beers. A taste test was in order, even if it was only 10:30 am, and I had walked in with my morning coffee still in hand! I figured it was ok, since the last beer in the line up was the Midnight Sun Espresso Stout. Just like coffee, no? I like Whitehorse a lot. It's much more cosmopolitain than Fairbanks, despite being less than half the size.

Emerald Lake, on the road to Skagway, was the highlight of our drive!

We had a two and a half hour drive to Skagway and permits yet to buy, so we headed down the road before the morning slipped away. We obtained our permits and listened to warnings about avalanche danger and the necessity of snowshoes, discovered there would only be one other group on the trail at our chosen camp spots, and wandered off to find lunch and drinks. It was a hot day in Skagway, but you wouldn't have known it: a "boat" was in, and the thousands of tourists wandering around town were all wearing jackets and long pants. By "boat" I mean cruise ship, and by cruise ship I mean vessel larger than any building in Skagway. This isn't actually a photo that I took, but it looks right (except it's missing the glaring sun, and the four of us sweating to death with as few clothes on as we could manage). I guess we must have really stuck out from the crowd in our shorts... that and the fact that we were walking in the middle of the road like Ester yokels, as much because that's what we do at home as it was to avoid the crowds... because I was asked for directions more than once.

After lunching, visiting the local outdoor store (the Mountain Shop) to see what was on sale and grab last minute things (notice a theme?), we headed to the hotel lawn to unpack our backpacks and repack our backpacks. As if we wouldn't do enough of that over the next few days... but that's how it is before a trip into the backcountry, long or short. Gear in order, we headed into our sweltering hotel for a fitful but early night of sleep. We knew falling and remaining asleep would be difficult given our state of excitement, but this is what we faced after breakfast the next morning:

Stay tuned for Day 1 on the trail...

Spring migration to the Clearwater

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Wed, 31 May 2006 19:38:20 +0200

On May 6th, we had our second "paddle" of the year, with some friends from work. Frank and Jeanie had a brand new canoe that had only been wet with snow, and it was time to see if it could float. Melissa and Tom proposed a trip down the Delta Clearwater, which is about ninety miles (150 km) from Fairbanks, near Delta Junction. This is a traditional spring migration for Fairbanks paddlers, marking the few weeks between break up and a fully fledged summer.

The Clearwater, which flows into the Tanana River, is spring fed and crystal clear. Rumor has it that it stays open year-round; but I don't know anyone brave enough to float it at 40 below, so this rumor is unverified in my book. But in early May, when the Chena and other rivers still have ice, the Clearwater is ice free. Funny that this was our second paddle of the year, after we paddled through the ice on the Chena. We do love a challenge. We paddled the Clearwater on a cloudy and somewhat drizzly day, but the group was in high spirits. And in true Fairbanksan fashion, we had beer to keep us warm as we floated. The river wasn't swift, but it flowed fast enough that we didn't have to work constantly to stay on track. It made for a fairly lazy paddle much of the way. We didn't see any other boats on the river during the entire twelve mile (19 km), five hour float to Clearwater Lake. We did see plenty of birds, as the area is a stop on their migratory path to the arctic breeding grounds. Among the birds we saw were mallards, green winged teals, lesser yellowlegs, common mergansers, sandhill cranes flying by the dozens, a bald eagle, Bonaparte's gulls, and tundra swans.

Sandhill Cranes	Lone Bald Eagle
Bonaparte's gulls	Driftwood

Slow trips likes this one allow time to enjoy one's surroundings, good conversations, and a cold drink. They also allow preparation for an upriver battle, as Clearwater Lake empties into the Tanana and creates a 1.5 mile (2.5 km) battle through swift and shallow water (followed by another battle through a lake only inches deep, where the submerged land is more like quicksand). Good thing the Lake is the take-out point, as there was more than one wet sock by the end of the trip!

Ken and I	Alaska Range from river
Fur trappers' Historic Cabin	Melissa

All in a day's work

nospam@example.com (Megan) — Tue, 23 May 2006 19:52:12 +0200

I'm not a big fan of off-roading, but sometimes it's a job requirement. So I'm sharing some of the spectacular views from yesterday's trip down to the Healy area. Denali National Park is in the background of most of these photos, but that porcupine is the only wildlife we saw (and many tracks from moose and even a bear!). The Alaska Range is hidden behind the clouds. You can see that spring thaw in the area has not been over for long; although today I wore a tanktop and ate lunch on the deck of the local "golf course", overlooking a lake and the mountains. The golf course also gave atv and covered wagon tours, nevermind that covered wagons were never part of the local scene. That's Alaska for you.

View toward_Denali National Park	The Alaska Range is behind the clouds
Partially frozen creek	Me with Porcy
Soggy Ride	Stuck-ish

Even responsible riding on permafrost can cause a lot of damage. Can you imagine trying to build a road here?